At that, something fluttered a little farther south. Not at the cactus part, though it was curious. There was literally only one look sexier than a suit, and every woman knew exactly what it was.
Apparently, Bowen Michaels knew too.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten.”
The drive to my office was short. I spent the whole time trying to make myself somewhat presentable. It was a lost cause. I looked like hell, but my house was in the opposite direction, so a trip home to shower, shave, pluck, ladyscape, brush my teeth, do my hair, apply fresh makeup, and lastly change clothes was out of the question.
But realistically, the last time he’d seen me, I was covered in bubble tea. Mulch was par for the course at this point.
I’d been a realtor for years, but I’d only recently opened my own office. From a financial standpoint, we didn’t need a storefront, but I had big plans to expand and take on other agents, so I’d rented an end unit at a strip mall with room to grow. Mark and Aaron had helped me move in, but everything in the office had been either painted, planted, or handpicked by me. I was proud of the little space, but never had it stolen my breath before until I walked inside and found Bowen sitting in a cream club chair surrounded by the rainforest phase B.
“Bowen?” I said with enough surprise in my voice to keep Amber out of trouble. I’d been on the receiving end of one of his glares. There was no need to throw her under the bus for having called me. “What are you doing here?”
He stood, his tall, muscular frame unfolding. I waited for the frown. It seemed to be his specialty when it came to me, but as his gaze held mine, his expression remained soft. Not quite a smile, but definitely progress.
“Hi,” he said, staring for a beat before grabbing a small potted cactus no bigger than my cell phone off the table and extending it in my direction. “I brought you this.” He glanced around at the plants hanging in the corners, his gaze lingering the longest on the massive string of pearls plant, its vines several feet long. “Seems lackluster now.”
I bit my lip. “No, it’s gorgeous.” Our fingertips brushed as I took it from him and I willed the heat rising inside me not to hit my cheeks. “Thank you. This is unexpected after yesterday.” I turned the pot from side to side. “Wait. Did you tuck a restraining order in here somewhere?”
He chuckled and my head snapped up, ready and eager for the heart-stopping show that was a Bowen Michaels smile. His whole face beamed. His brown eyes were warmer than before, and his enchanting grin revealed what was possibly a dimple hiding in his neatly trimmed beard.
It did not disappoint.
Amber suddenly appeared at my side. “All right, Remi, I’m out of here. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I didn’t tear my gaze off Bowen as I replied, “Have a good night.”
“You too,” she sang, the front door swinging shut behind her.
A pregnant silence blanketed the room as we stood there. I’d led every single conversation Bowen and I had ever exchanged, but letting him take the lead would be fun for once. Especially since he’d basically told me to kick rocks the day before.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he wedged his hand inside the pocket of his navy slacks, which were tapered at the ankle and capped by stylish brown dress shoes. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“Sure. What’s up?” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “Do we need privacy? Nobody’s here, but I can lock up and we could go to my office.”
He shook his head. “That’s not necessary. This won’t take but a minute.”
I couldn’t help it. The damn cactus had gotten my hopes up. Hopes of what, I wasn’t quite sure, but his impending brevity made my shoulders sag. “Oh, okay.”
His jaw muscles ticked as he drew in a deep breath, and just as he had done too many times before, his gaze cut over my shoulder. “Look, I owe you an apology. The courthouse, the bar, yesterday—that’s not me. It’s just…” His eyes returned to mine. “I lost my fiancée in the plane crash. And honestly, Remi, most days it feels like I’m drowning.”
I nearly dropped the cactus when I slapped a hand over my mouth. Memories of me all but throwing myself at this grieving man raced to the front of my mind. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I never would’ve—”
“Remi, no.” Surprise, surprise, he’d interrupted me, but this time, I didn’t mind.
Seriously, how could I? I’d been practically harassing a widower.
His long legs devoured the space between us. “I didn’t tell you so you’d feel guilty. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let me explain myself.” His right hand landed on my hip, giving me a warm squeeze.
